


The Great Pretender

by Spongeborb_22



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: M/M, Multi, horrible horrible turn signals, turn signals
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-07
Updated: 2019-07-07
Packaged: 2020-06-23 17:36:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,742
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19706191
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spongeborb_22/pseuds/Spongeborb_22
Summary: Crowley is sent off on an adventure to try and not bore himself to death- well, discorporation- when Aziraphale has to clean up shop. Shenanigans ensue.





	The Great Pretender

**Author's Note:**

> god,,,,,,,,,,,,, i love the idea of crowley making prank calls,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,, hhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

It was a mere week after Almost-geddon, and Crowley, for the most part, had spent that time with Aziraphale, going out to eat, getting drunk, passing out, such and such. He had returned occasionally to water his plants. Aziraphale said he’d needed to clean up a bit, so he’d gone back to his flat. Crowley offered to help, but Aziraphale said he’d be fine on his own.

“You have houseplants to tend to! I’m sure they miss you. I don’t want to steal all your attention!” He’d said it with a wink before ushering Crowley out, waving from inside as Crowley walked to his Bentley.

Crowley knew his plants didn’t miss him, but he did know they most likely missed Aziraphale. The angel did tend to gush to the plants whenever Crowley came over. Was Crowley jealous? Never! Why would he be jealous of a plant? The Bentley’s radio was _apparently_ trying to push the demon’s buttons, because it was absolutely **_blaring_** Somebody To Lovealmost the second he’d turned the key. He rushed to turn the volume down, knowing everyone on the street could hear, and he _swore_ he could see Aziraphale in the shop hiding a smile on his face. He’ll get that dastardly angel back for this.

As Crowley drove to his flat, he had a near permanent frown on his face, a very odd accompaniment to the blatant flush on his face. Once he’d arrived, he slammed his face into the steering wheel, sighing in defeat and getting out of that traitorous car of his.

“Stupid car, blaring that dumb song…” He slapped the hood of the car as a sort of reprimand, going inside, searching for the spray bottle he’d used for his plants. He’d ditched his jacket on the way inside, slowly walking into the room where he kept his plants.

“So… It’s been a while, hm? I’m sure **_none of you_** have been **_misbehaving_** while I was gone?” Crowley gave the greenery a pointed look, not seeing any spots. For now. “I see that you’ve all been doing well. And it will **_stay that way,_** correct?” The plants shook in fear, Crowley’s eyes gazing down at the smaller plants like a benevolent god. He saw some movement in his peripheral, seeing a little succulent far away from all the others on the windowsill. It shook too. He sauntered over to it, recognizing it as one Aziraphale had given him, the angel had even painted the pot with little flowers and books. The corner of his lip twitched, scooping up the plant oh-so tenderly, fingers ghosting over the leaves. “Not you, dear. You’ve done wonderfully while I was gone. You could never do anything wrong in my eyes.” Crowley turned and glared at the other plants, feeling as though they were happy before Crowley entered. Not relieved, but _pleased._ If someone broke in here and complimented his plants, they wouldn’t live to see another day.

Crowley set the little succulent on the windowsill gingerly, ceramic tapping against wood. “Must be awfully lonely here, but Aziraphale hasn’t given me any new plants, so sorry, dear…” He was only kind to this plant, borrowing a book from Aziraphale and always giving it back once he was done, the only reading he’d gotten in was reading to that plant before he went to bed. He sauntered away, sitting in front of the little television he had to watch some mindless programming, but that got boring after a while, settling for standing in front of a window and watching cars drive by.

“Seems like a nice day for a drive… If my car’s willing to cooperate for once.” He picked up his keys, opening the door to his flat. He turned to look back at the halls and corridors he could see before leaving and locking the door behind him.

He settled into his car, sighing and turning the key, bracing himself for another hot, fresh round of embarrassment, courtesy of his own car. It never came. His car was playing The Great Pretender at a normal volume. He pat the dashboard of his car and drove off toward Tadfield. Might be nice to visit Anathema and Newton, maybe check on Adam and the Them. He cranked the volume, seeing someone on the side of the street nod to him in approval. He gave them a two fingered salute and promptly slammed his foot onto the gas and sped off toward the village. No angels to stop him here. He felt it odd that he fount himself hesitating to drive how he’d always driven before. Oh, that angel turned him soft! He grumbled, but kept using disgusting **_turn signals._** Vile. Absolutely vile.

He arrived at Tadfield not long after, parking in a spot that is definitely not meant to be parked in, just to sort of show this cursed world that he hadn’t gone soft. He didn’t know whether to go to Anathema or Adam first, but after very little thinking he decided to go visit Anathema, he didn’t think Adam’s parents would be too delighted to find a tall man dressed in all black at their doorstep asking to see their son. Maybe he’d take a walk and see the kid on his bike. Maybe. He stopped at the door to Jasmine Cottage, where Anathema still lived. He gave the door a harsh knock, distinctly hearing a loud grumble from inside, before someone opened the door. It was Newton.

“Ah, afternoon.” Newt was wearing an apron covered in little lightning bolts.

“How’s Anathema? Cute apron.”

“First of all, it’s not cute, Anathema got it for me, second of all, she’s doing well, want to come inside?”

Crowley eyed the horseshoe above the door warily. “Uh… I’d rather not. Could you call Anathema over? I’ve got to get my… car… washed…”

“Oh, sure. Anathema! One of the weird men is here to see you!”

A voice from inside yelled, seemingly just in the kitchen, out of view. “Oh, Aziraphale? Did he come for tea?”

“Oh, no, it’s the other one, with the old car, his boyfriend, I think.”

“I’m not his-“

“Hello, Crowley, how are you?”

“Ah, Anathema, fantastic. Do me a favor and tell _your_ boyfriend that Aziraphale is not m- Oh, what’s the point- Look, I just stopped by to say hello, I wanted to make sure you both weren’t dead yet. Have you seen Adam recently?”

“Oh, I see him in the woods with his friends sometimes, they’re such nice kids. Pepper doesn’t seem to like Newt very much, still calls me a ‘victim of the patriarchy.’ Brian finally went to America, had a lot of ice cream while he was there, he told me. Wensleydale is still the same, he brings me recipes from his parents, they really like to make sandwiches. How’s the car?”

Crowley moved aside to show Anathema, the car gleaming in the summer sun.

“Aziraphale’s bookshop?”

“A-Okay.”

“Did you know he talks a lot? H-“

“Yes, I’m familiar.”

“You didn’t let me finish. He talks a lot _about you._ He never stops, he goes on and on about how you’re so nice to hi-“

“Alright, great talking to you Anathema, goodbye, sorry, can’t talk buh-bye!” Crowley yelled over Anathema, running back to his Bentley and speeding off. It left Anathema and Newton standing in their doorway, watching the Bentley as it drove off.

“Rude.” Anathema said to no one, closing the door and walking back inside, Newt following after.

Meanwhile, Crowley sped off back toward London, too flustered to think about turn signals and road rules. “Stupid Anathema, stupid Newt, not-stupid Aziraphale, I’m not fucking nice… We talked about this, angel…” He kept grumbling as he got to his flat and collapsed on the nearest soft surface. He suddenly realized that when he wasn’t with Aziraphale, life was awfully boring. He didn’t want to go back to the angel already, it hadn’t been that long, after all. The sun was beginning to set, humans walking home from work, and others walking to work from home. He could call Hastur, mess with him. He hasn’t done that in a while. He knew the duke of Hell had blocked his number, so he went to a pay phone and punched in Hastur’s way-too-long number.

“Yo! Hastur!”

“Wh- C-Crowley?! How did you-“

“Pay phones, Hastur La Vista.”

“That was an alias! I didn’t have time to think of a proper one!”

“Yeah, yeah, how’s Beelzebub?”

“I- Let me get this straight, you called me, on a normal mortal phone, to **_c-catch up?”_**

“Yup.”

“And you act like nothing’s wrong?! Like you didn’t go native?! LIKE YOU DIDN’T BETRAY HE-“

“Okay, that’s enough out of you, and do me a favor and tell Beelzebub that Gabriel and them make a wonderful couple.”

“Wh-“

He hung up then, allowing himself the pleasure of letting out a wicked cackle as he stepped out of the phone booth, seeing a tan coat flare behind someone that had just rounded a corner, going out of sight. Crowley ran after him, yelling for Aziraphale like a madman.

“Angel! Hey! Angel!” He saw the other turn around soon enough, confusion quickly being replaced by a soft smile. Crowley reciprocated, catching up to the angel.

“Ah, Crowley, how was your day? Not here to get me to run off with you, are we?”

“I- That was one time, angel!”

“I know, I know, how were your plants?” Aziraphale began walking, Crowley walking next to him.

“They seemed fine, oddly happy before I got home.”

“O-Oh, how nice. Must have been a nice day for them, I suppose.”

“Went to see Anathema, she’s doing well, Adam isn’t planning on starting the apocalypse again.”

“Oh, lovely! Want to come inside for some tea?”

“Wouldn’t hurt to take a little break. I’ve been running around London for quite a while.”

“Wonderful!” Aziraphale ushers Crowley inside, the two still chattering on as the citizens of London meander about the city. Beelzebub is reluctantly told Crowley’s message, and is immediately turned tomato red. Hastur was sent away and complained to any listening ear about Crowley once again. Adam and the Them still have adventures about witches and occasionally make fun of the Four Horsemen. Normal kid things. Anathema is still a witch, what else would she be, an aardvark? Newt still isn’t allowed around computers, for the sake of not burning down Jasmine Cottage, and all is well.


End file.
